


What to Expect When You're Expecting Genetically Replicated Raptors

by bluerosele



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Barry's POV, Couvade syndrome, Crack, Emotional Imbalance, Fluff, Fluffy Cloud of Dinosaurs, Gen, Mentions of Ethics of Cloning, Owen Doesn't Control the Eggs it's a RELATIONSHIP, Owen's Going Through a lot of Emotions, Owen's Not Pregnant but Don't Tell Him That He Doesn't Know, Parenting Books Are Hard to Apply to Embryonic Development of Dinosaurs, Raptor Egg Squad, Science: I'm Doing Everything All Wrong, Sort of Mini-Drabbles, That is One Big Pile of Crack, how did this happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosele/pseuds/bluerosele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, Barry Signed Up to Babysit Raptors not his Co-Worker. Owen's an expecting Raptor mom, Barry is trying to contain Owen the expecting Raptor mom, and Jurassic World initiative might be facing more danger than the Indinomus could've ever caused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What to Expect When You're Expecting Genetically Replicated Raptors

The explanation of the genetic splicing and cloning procedures given by an animated DNA strand with Dinosaur pronunciation choices skims over a few not so exciting deoxyribonucleic acid compounds, along with possible compromising depictions of the actual genetic extraction and external fertilization of developing zygotes. Debated ethics of cloning aside, the perhaps not so anticipated yet most pressing obstacle the Jurassic World initiative wanted to avoid being shown was the effect the unhatched dinosaurs had on their assigned caretaker counterparts. 

Barry, unfortunately, was not shielded from this process. From the moment the four Raptor eggs were reported as successfully fertilized, and upon request (by Owen) personal exposure to the eggs immediately upon zygote stage, he could tell by Owen's wide, examining eyes and glowing smile (even through the folds of his hands) this wasn't going to be as calm as a spreadsheet. Even with the ovum goop of dinosaurs, shielded by their organic layers of protection, no one was safe from the oncoming newborns and their sporadically self-declared parent.  

Also, Owen's aggressive whisper of, "We just made _babies,_ " had Barry on edge. 

* * *

It's nineteen hours later when Barry returns to an empty and dark hatching facility that he finds Owen still in front of the Raptors' chamber, slumped over the side, sleeping against the glass barrier. Nineteen hours seems like enough time for Owen to absorb that yes, yes the Raptors are made, if all goes well the Raptors are going to hatch and be Raptors, and he will be in charge of those Raptors (warranted by Barry's and the rest of the Raptors teams examinations). And he's not exactly sure that if he doesn't try to move Owen now he'll glue himself to the chair he's made home in, and not leave for any personal care taking in the time it takes for the Raptors to be born. Which could be distracting to the hatching workforce, and make the organization of the Raptor team a bit more difficult, if Owen dies staring at the eggs, unmoving, for the next few months. Barry wonders if he can still transfer to another species' staff. 

As he goes over to poke Owen awake, a voice calls out " _Hey_ ," startling Barry, because please God don't let them have constructed talking dinosaurs. It's not a dinosaur, it's a much scarier and intense lady with sharp red hair and eyes stalking over towards the both of them. 

"Uh, hi?" Barry says, shaking Owen a bit more forcefully now. He might need backup. "Barry from Velociraptor division I--"

"I don't care who you are. Your friend here was causing enough trouble as it is, I'm not going to let him turn this facility into a slumber party. Private personnel after thirteen-oh-hundred hours." Angry hair snaps, jutting out her shoulders, trying to stand taller. The pose seems uncomfortable to her, but she keeps it, trying to make herself bigger. If only she knew her hair was intimidating enough by itself. 

"Wasn't in the military. General?" Barry tries to smile through whatever act she's putting on. It seems to work, angry hair deflates. 

"Yeah, no, even the actual army people don't seem to respond to it either. Sorry, it's Claire, not General." She waves over Owen's sleeping form halfheartedly. "But, seriously, could you help me out here? You guys really shouldn't be hanging out around the genetic offices at this time. We've got a lot of work to do, and he snores. Really loud." For effect, Owen choses that moment to make some bizarre walrus mating call, Barry guesses is the snoring not-so-angry-anymore hair is referring to. Shit. 

Barry elbows Owen with all the frustration he and the lady from genetics have accumulated towards Owen in the last fifteen seconds, and Owen snorts awake at the pressure and flails almost falling off his chair but balancing with military skill, remaining upright. So close. 

"Wake up. Hey, Raptor mom," Another elbow. "Wake up."

"Sngf--we gonna--they're--I'm so _pregnant_ ," Owen swayed over towards Barry, and collapsed against his side, wrapping his arms around Barry's midsection. 

Valiantly trying to push Owen off, but giving up after his third try, he walks backwards and half picks Owen up, letting him slouch against him literally becoming a support stand for Owen's half-aware sleep walking. "Okay, so you're sure you didn't put the dinosaur babies in him, right?" 

"No," Claire assures, shaking her angry hair into a much more hospitable stance. "Velociraptors are amniotes, a viviparous birth wouldn't support their growth." She says serious enough Barry isn't sure if he should laugh or run away with Owen so they don't implant a dinosaur in him for an experiment. 

He settles with shuffling away, dragging Owen behind him, keeping his eyes on Claire who waves, and missing his old job at the National Museum of Natural History very much. 

"Oh! One more thing," Claire says. "Tell him no, he can't sit on the eggs. I don't care if he thinks it'll help some bond, he will crush them, and we'll have to start over. Dinosaurs don't grow on trees." 

He misses the National Museum of Natural History very, very much. 

* * *

Barry's visits to Owen's bunker had been varied, quick, and usually about something emergency-the-park-isn't-open-yet-and-it's-breaking related, but in any of those short visitations he doesn't remember the onslaught of books attacking at any point. Especially ones with so many pregnant and vacantly smiling women staring into the distance. 

He really doesn't want to know what this is all about. 

"I really don't want to know what this is all about," Barry tries to step over the books and magazines, but is overcome by the sheer amount, slipping over one particular happy mother and toppling with Owen down onto his couch. 

"For the babies, Barry, the babies," Owen says, because now of course he's awake, though still not coherent. 

Barry's not sure if that's any better than finding out Owen had some serious pregnancy fixation kink or something. "You know, they're probably not focusing on the same gestative stages we are, right?"  

Owen stares unfazed. 

"And we're not actually giving birth to them, right?" 

Owen's blank look remains. 

"And, that we're not. Going to be their. Parents, right?" 

That has Owen's face contort to a ferocious activity, which makes Barry want to hide under chair or roll onto his back. "We're going to be a family, man. We're responsible for these little guys, and they're going to look to us for guidance, and protection from this place." Barry is about to point out 'this place' is also the reason they have Raptors and are allowed to work with them in the first place, but Owen leans forward to grab Barry's shoulders and stare fiery parental daggers into his eyes. "You've got to promise me, no matter what happens, you're going to take care of them too, okay? Even if they eat me, I don't care, you're on board." 

"I mean, if they eat you we'll probably have to go through Clause 8 and put them down but--"

Owen's expression hardens and crumbles simultaneously, and it's just so heartbreaking Barry starts to nod. And it reminds him of his mother and he's a bit afraid of it. "Okay, okay, yeah. The small dinosaurs need our help to become big dinosaurs and I'll help take care of them and if they eat you I'll still look out for them. Would you stop with the, hell hath no fury like a mother bear thing now?" 

Owen smiles, patting Barry's cheek and relaxing, which apparently takes away all of Owen's self-support so he flops back down on top of Barry. 

"Are you drunk?" 

"Off of happiness!" Owen giggles into Barry's neck. "Also, I think the genes staff drugged me to make me stop asking questions and shut up." 

Barry's going to need to find those gene scientists, give them a firm scolding, and request a supply of those drugs for backup in case Owen's angry maternal side ever tries to pounce on Barry again. 

* * *

After Owen passes out again, Barry resigns to sleeping on the couch too, to oversee possible drugged Owen and because his own bunker is far away and he's trapped and tired and apparently is pregnant with raptors, so yeah, he deserves to never move again and sleep forever. 

But, the world doesn't agree with Barry's good intentions, and screams at him in the morning. In shrieking alarm timed increments. Which sounds like supersonic predatory bird bomb.

Barry wakes up with a shout, twisting around to see what's trying to kill them, scrambling backward on the couch with frantic momentum. There was no Owen on the couch anymore, whatever's screaming seems to have eaten him. 

"Oh my God, OWEN!" Some side of Barry shrieks, for reasons he's not entirely sure about. If what's screaming him has in fact eaten Owen it's probably not helping to yell at him, but it causes the squawking to stop so Barry doesn't regret it. 

Owen's not-consumed face enters his line of sight, smiling at Barry like nothings happened. "Good morning sunshine." 

"Sun--what the--Owen, what the fuck was that?" Barry says, scanning the room for some animal Owen might've stolen in the middle of the night, and generally responding to the situation with maybe not as much finesse as Owen but hell of a lot more sense.

"Oh, that was me," Owen keeps smiling.  

"Oh. Oh? _Oh_." Barry says, waving his arms, when Owen's eyebrows sew together. "What was that about? Are you orchestrating a Jurassic Opera troop?" 

"I'd been meaning to tell you, the velociraptor staff is actually going to be the entertainment segment for the park."

"Yeah, cause I'm the one sounding stupid right now, not the one-man demonic chorus." 

"I'm practicing my vocalizations," Owen shrugs, walking two steps away into the kitchen portion of the expanding room/house. 

"You're not assuring me of the Opera troop not existing." 

"C'mon you expected to do this," Owen says like Barry has any idea what's going on. 

"Again. Opera troop." 

"Replicating velociraptor vocalizations for communicative connections with the girls," Owen says. 

"You're going to try talking with them?" Barry works out the words as he works out comprehending the idea. 

"Sure." Owen leaves it there, letting the prospect of talking with raptors lie like its no big deal, an everyday topic of conversation, easily applicable controversial linguistic methods in animal training. It's why he's the head of the raptor devision. It's why Owen's so great at what he does. It doesn't make it anymore reasonable. 

"Projecting the same noises back at an animal only half-knowing why only works so long. You can whine at a dog to make it stop biting, but after awhile it won't be convinced. Animal acting isn't exactly a popular theater movement." 

"Which is why," Owen emphasizes each word with laying bacon to sizzle across the pan on the stove. "We'll focus on what they mean. It won't just be commands, it'll be a dialogue."

"Dinosaur dialogue."

Owen laughs, not for the reason Barry intends. "We work at a super zoo with dinosaurs. You act like this is the weirdest aspect brought up. Don't worry I plan to titrate on the, as you put it, Jurassic Operas, and mingle in some human dialect so everyone else on the staff can talk with them too. And no not actual talking. So don't get all 'Grady, you know not what you do! You'll be the ruin of this establishment. We don't tell our staff half the things going on here, but _you--will--DESTROY--US_ '." 

As Owen goes on about comprehension by tones, Barry thinks about how there's too much to say here. About Owen's preconceived expectations of their relations with the raptors, implementing speculative at best behavior techniques to establish a connection with said raptors. About how these are animals sure, he knows if he voices his concerns that's what Owen will say, it's what Owen always says, but they are big, supposed to be extinct, clever, confused, contained animals. As much as he knows he has to believe in the staff for camaraderie or whatever they said at orientation, but this is this is

"BREAKFAST." Owen cries, throwing a plate through his haze of actually acknowledging what he's gotten himself into. Then he starts 'practicing his vocalizations' screaming with different inflections asking Barry intermittently the noises make him feel. 

Maybe the Stegosaurus staff could use an extra hand. 

* * *

From then on research involving the raptors remains pretty basic (as basic as raptor creation and attempt at pack-human integration can be), with Owen's presentations and overview of the staffs understanding of pack dynamics being concise and plain. Aside from a few hiccups; where either Owen gets in some verbal sparring with Claire (Barry's in an ongoing bet on who will kill who first, or ask out), or some sort of debate about the raptors upbringing is questioned (two interns got into a fist fight over the Possible Names list, and Owen had to be manhandled out the room by Barry when someone called his unborn girls the facehuggers from Alien--which didn't even make sense but Owen somehow took offense and yeah there was dino-murder-mom back again).

It's not until a few weeks after 'No One Calls the Babies Any Sort of Horror Movie Reference--Don't Ask, Just Please Do Not' is officially left on the meeting rooms whiteboard that Owen's compromised mother instincts act out.

" _I will sic the T-Rex on someone_ ," one of the interns, the one with a ponytail place precariously on top of her head, rushes into the main room in a fit of destruction and vengeance. "Who's the Triceratops turd who keeps stealing all my ice-cream?"

Pushing his thumbs into the side of his temple, wondering how he got stuck with so many paleontologist come up with so many paleontologists insults (oh yeah he joined a place called  _Jurassic World_ for some reason), he tries to divert the intern to avoid another broken table. "Don't worry--Taylor? We can manage to get you some more ice-cream, we're not actually in Prehistoric times." 

"You. Do not. Understand. This is some serious shit, alright?" She says, all frenzied frustration focusing in on Barry. "I can't get it through customs without it melting, so I have to make it myself by the recipe handed down to me by. The. Generations. Of. My. Ancestors. It's blood and sweat and tears, and I am five hundred degree weather all goddamn day so I thought I might need some goddamn ice-cream because I goddamn deserve it." 

"Right, then," Barry's been pushed back by her voice into the nearest wall. With all his crisis training involving carnivorous top-of-the-food-chain animals, he has no idea what to do with Taylor's lack of dairy. "I'll investigate?" 

"Taylor, c'mon, I'll get you a slushy. On me. Don't eat our boss, it won't be good for our transcripts," a less loud intern swoops in to Barry's rescue, smiling as she guided her crazed and ravenous co-worker away. She, she should be on the fucking T-Rex team. Barry will find out who she was and give her every promotion he is capable. 

He forgets about the near death experience by intern until he checks in on Owen for their 'Trimester Update' on the Raptors progress and finds him sprawled upside down on his couch shoveling a carton of ice-cream into his face. 

"Don't choke on that, I almost died for that crap," Barry says in lieu of greeting. 

Owen understands, sniffling back, "I was having cravings." 

"You're not pregnant." 

" _Sympathy cravings_." 

* * *

 Owen has been. Emotional. 

It's sporadic and not too often, but when they attack they hit hard. 

After Dr. Sanchez brought her baby to work to help the park test comfortable accommodations for family's with infants, Barry had to talk a "totally not crying, dude, just leave me alone. That thing was just so small and squishy" Owen out of the locked communal bathroom for three hours. Then there'd been the meeting with one of the Raptor Divisions main researchers/InGen head of security, where Owen had literally growled at the man during introductions. The guy, Vic Hoskins, had laughed, but Barry's still a bit freaked out by what would have happened if Hoskins had continued to insist on a handshake. 

And, Jesus, whatever's going on between Owen and Claire was palpable enough to be cut with a knife, set on fire, in a neon sign of 'THESE IDIOTS ARE BAD AT EMOTIONS WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING SCREAM SOME MORE'. 

With Barry though, Owen is stabilized in some composed comatose. He's not sure what it is, maybe the correlation between every positive interaction with the raptors being with Barry, or what some intern had said about 'Funky Dino Mama Juice is Targeting Their Mate', but Barry would rather have the growling. That at least he knows how to respond to. Some emotional roller coaster animal trainer falling asleep on him (again) during the Raptor Division Family Time monopoly game (supplied by Jurassic World, Barry had almost owned all nests in the Supersaurus quadrant) Owen himself had insisted on, Barry didn't know how to handle so much. The situation is made worse when all the baby interns take advantage of their superior holding down their other superior and leave, the same intern walking backwards as he mouthed "funky. Mama. Dino. Juice."

Raptor Family his ass.  

Barry struggles for awhile, knowing he could flip him over, but not able to bring himself to do so when he knows how little Owen's been sleeping. How much energy and effort, while scattered, is being spent on worrying over the raptors care and raising. Barry wants this to be over, so Owen can see the girls he envisions being as wonderful as he tries to convince everyone they're going to be, so Owen can finally give evidence to his tactical plans to not just train the animals, but teach and care for them, so Owen can sleep. 

"They'll be hatching soon," Owen whispers, suddenly, because Barry guess the funky dino juice has them connect on the same wavelength. "They'll be here and alive. I want to meet them so bad," 

"Well, you will. I mean, that's why we're here right?" Barry says. He doesn't kick Owen off. 

Owen is quiet for awhile. "I don't want to let them down," 

"The park?"

"God, no," Owen huffs out a laugh, quickly cut off by some solemn intake of air. "The girls, I don't, I don't want them to get hurt." 

Barry wonders what he can do, knowing he can't do anything, and places a hand on his shoulder. "If it's any consolation, so does every other parent of every other species." 

Owen somehow curls in tighter. "Ha," he says. "Made you say parent." Letting him have his moment, Barry leans back to accommodate most of Owen, and thinks about the first night the eggs were fertilized. A hand abruptly smacks Barry's chest. 

"Ow! What I do? I'm being supportive here." 

"Don't forget your promise." 

Barry wants to say he doesn't know what Owen's talking about, he wants to say a lot of things, so he just settles back a little more, and says, "Right, take care of the babies even if the babies eat us." He pauses. "Hey, make me a promise." 

"Shoot." Owen says immediately trusting Barry, and this whole operation, so much it hurts. 

"You watch out for me, I'll watch out for them,"

"And who's watching out for me in this equation?" 

Barry rolls his eyes. Like Owen needs to even ask. "Based on the charts you made for recreational raptor times and scheduled pig chasing, I think you're going to be the favorite parent." 

Owen smiles against Barry's chest, and Barry lets himself lie all the way back on the cold steel, yet somehow comfortable, floor.  

"Thank you," Owen says into Barry's shirt. 

"For what?" 

Owen doesn't answer and falls back asleep just as soon. Barry follows, lulled off by a sustained silence, which is only broken by the sounds of the outside cacophony of the world 65 million years ago, and engines popping with whirring snores across the halls. 

* * *

"IT'S HAPPENING," Owen screams into the night, bolting upright. 

Pulled up by the frantic Owen, no matter how desperately he tries to stay asleep, Barry is brought to full awareness by shaking and consistent shrieking. "It's the middle of the night, don't do your vocal-whats-it-warm-ups." 

"These are not raptor calls, these are Raptor Calls," Owen says, as if there's any distinction between the stress he's placed on the words. 

"Everything was all nice five minuets ago--nice, and quiet, and there was thanking for my existence. I can't look out for the babies if you kill me with sleep deprivation," 

"These. Are. The. Babies." Owen tightens his hold with each word, as if some external pressure will transfer whatever Owen means to Barry's brain. "It's happening, they're hatching and we aren't there for them we are the worst parents--"

"Whoa, alright, um, how'd you. Did someone call you? How are you--"

"I can _feel_ it," Owen says, wringing his hands in Barry's shirt. 

Barry breaths slow, his sigh carrying out something close to the growl Owen gave Hoskins however long ago. "I have been understanding about a lot, Grady. But this is sleeping Barry, and sleeping Barry is not so understanding." 

"Then wake the fuck up and bring me normal Barry, because I need help I am birthing!" 

"Jesus Christ, you are _not_ pregnant!" 

Owen jumps up, with an uncontrolled urgency, running down the halls. "The babies are coming, and they need their papa!" 

Barry thinks about going back to sleep without his human blanket. Barry thinks about an Owen being tranquilized after barging into the genetics department. Barry smiles at this, but gets up to run after the hysterical labor scare. 

* * *

"I'M HAVING A BABY." Owen pushes open the doors with a power Barry isn't sure came from. They flop against the walls and back again, thunder clapping attention from everyone in the room not already drawn to the exclamation burst. 

"Mr. Grady?" Claire is next to the raptors nest. "How did you--?" 

"Has it happened yet, am I too late, are they healthy, what're-their-vitals-like, ohmygodaretheyallokay?" Owen is still empowered, speeding across the room his words as fast as his fast walk/jumping to the raptors. 

"One question at a time," Dr. Wu laughs from over his clipboard. "They've only just begun hatching. Your intuition is spot on, Mr. Grady. We were going to call but given the time and--"

"Imprinting."

Dr. Wu's plastered smile falters, "Pardon?" 

"The--imprinting. To make sure they are comforted after all this, this egg stuff and--" Owen waves his hand around breathing hard, like he really is going into labor. 

"What I think my colleague is trying to say is, we were hoping to be here for the initial hatching. The imprinting moment can be important--"

"Vital."

"--vital," Barry repeats still keeping a calm exterior so they're not thrown out of their own nest. "Moment in the relationship establishment between us and the raptors." 

"But, that was never really documented into any official plans we didn't have to proceed with," Claire stops at Owen's physical bristling. It's not contained or quipping, not really towards Claire, or Dr. Wu at all, but what Barry can sense as some sort of impenetrable force ensuring Owen he's here when the raptors hatch. Claire tilts her head to the side like she does when a particular number seems out of place. "Our mistake, carry on, Mr. Grady."

Mr. Grady certainly does carry on, situating himself at the front of the raptors nest staring at the jumping eggs, the layers concaving and being pushed against what it helped create. Without realizing it, Barry is pulled forward by the same magnetism at the understanding that this was happening, there were raptors, there are going to be raptors, these are raptors.

It's too soon an eternity when a small head juts out of it's smashed home, squealing against the remaining shards flaking off against her writhing. Her head is blue, covered in slime, and she is possibly the most beautiful thing Barry's ever seen.

Latex hands are reaching for her, and based on Owen's not snapping it off, it must belong to him. The raptor is gently nudged, it blinks up towards the owner of the hand, reaching out for the finger. She stumbles head first, body after, into the Owen's hands platform. Cooing, he leans over the cut off glass lining, helping her shed off some stray egg layers. Her head wobbles to the side a bit staring at what's helping her, making high pitched investigative noises. Owen smiles down reciting the noise in a lower, more assured, timbre. The first of their raptors coils completely into Owen's outstretched hand. 

"She's so blue," Owen whispers, laughs bubbling over where he doesn't let the watery tone of his pent up crying. "Little beta Blue. That's what we'll call you." 

Barry barks out a loud snort, which dissolves into stifled giggles he can't hold back. Through bleary tears he's able to see the department hasn't fallen apart at his momentary (continued) own fall apart. Blue looks up startled and snuggles against Owen's hand firmer. "I-I'm sorry," he chokes. Owen smiles at him in a similar state to what he must look like, with eyes swollen and red, tears pooling over. "I'm just so, so fucking happy it's over." 

"Oh, but Barry," Owen averts his attention back to the nest, where Blue's sisters are emerging from their own shells. "It's only just begun." 

 

 


End file.
